dispatches from the front: part mumble

Note One: I have officially lost one hundred and four pounds. Or, 104. Or, ONE HUNDRED AND FOUR. That is a lot of goddamn pounds. It is more than half-way. 62 more pounds to go to my doctor's goal for me. Jesus Christ. Holy crap. Whee!

Note Two: Yesterday, stretching before my run, I realized that I could put both palms boom, flat down on the floor. (See above re: crap, holy and whee!)

Note the Third: I dropped by Forth and Towne when I was at (shudder) the mall this past weekend. Their sizes go up to 20, and they had a very lovely dress on their website not so long ago, and I thought I would try it on, maybe pick up something pretty to celebrate having lost ONE HUNDRED AND FOUR (104) pounds. I tried on the dress in a 20. Too big. Down to an 18. Too big. Down, incredulously, to an 16 - wait, no 16? Okay, I'll try the 14, I said, flush with power. Back fat! Yar. (Also: sexy) So I didn't buy it. But to not be in their largest sizes? Oh, that was a revelation. (Ibid.)

Honey, people like you make me want to wake up every day and do everything right. I am thrilled for you. And not just thrilled, either; I am so proud of you (Internet stranger) for doing the work and being honest about your process and your life and respecting this place enough to share the experience with other people.

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about and etcetera

One of those weight loss blogs, except for how I hate the word "blog" and this isn't so much about losing weight as not wanting to diet, being thirty-something, and just trying to get it - where "it" is read as "everything" - right. Now, getting it right means dealing with the aftermath of weight loss surgery - all the scary, all the wonderful, all the frustrating.